


Deductions at Baker College

by wandofhawthorn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, JohnlockChallenges Exchange, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-16
Updated: 2012-09-16
Packaged: 2017-11-14 09:44:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/513910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandofhawthorn/pseuds/wandofhawthorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a scholarship recipient, John must help new students at Baker College settle into the school. John's assignment this year: Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deductions at Baker College

**Author's Note:**

> For a gift exchange on johnlockchallenges.tumblr.com. Written for sorryforpartyreichen's prompt: “I’d really like something involving Sherlock and John meeting in, say, a private school when they’re teenagers and Sherlock kind of being an “outcast” and John befriending him. Any rating.”
> 
> Not britpicked or beta'd.

New year, new school, and Sherlock was already bored. He sat in a corner of the administration office, a scowl across his pale face. He was going to be assigned a _mentor_. The very idea made his skin crawl. He didn't need help finding his way around campus, and he certainly didn't need a snotty older student telling him 'this is how it's done here at Baker College'. Conformity didn't sit well with Sherlock. Dull. Boring. Useless.

At least his brother allowed him to enroll as a day student instead of a boarder. A dormitory would have been suffocating. More suffocating than the tie currently digging into his throat. He never wore them if he could help it, but Mycroft had threatened to sew the knot together over breakfast.

Too busy sulking, he didn't bother looking up when the office door opened.

"Good morning, John!" The admin behind the desk was far too cheery for eight o'clock in the morning. She had kept a sour expression on her face when she had dealt with Sherlock, so obviously this John was someone who had gained special favor with her. Either his reputation preceded him or she didn't take to strangers easily. Most likely the former, but Sherlock wasn't about to admit it.

"I've got a tough one for you this year," she muttered quietly (not quietly enough, of course) with an apologetic expression. "Sherlock Holmes." That was enough to cause Sherlock to look up. Apparently he was about to meet his snotty older student mentor.

Normal at first glance -- sandy blonde hair, cut short; small stature, but with obvious strength. An athelete then. Wonderful. Uniform was regulation -- straight creases from ironing trousers, tie done up properly and tucked into a dark blue jumper. A stray crumb sat on his lapel -- breakfast, probably a muffin. He had rushed through his meal. He obviously rose early in the morning, but coming to the admin office wasn't customary for him. He opened his knapsack, allowing Sherlock to glance at his textbooks. Organic chemistry, anatomy, and several large notebooks filled the inside.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll get along just fine," the boy replied, a tight grin on his face. Irritation? After handing over a form from his bag, the boy, John, turned to face Sherlock, and the grin faltered slightly.

"I wouldn't bet on it," Sherlock announced. The admin -- her nameplate read Ms. Donovan -- rolled her eyes.

"Er, right, well --" John lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck, and Sherlock noticed the stuttered movement in his shoulder. Injury -- sport? No. Car crash. Three to four years ago.

Sherlock rose swiftly from his seat, raising an eyebrow when John startled and took a step back. Defensive -- why? Past event. Traumatic. Parent? 

"if that's all, Ms. Donovan, I'll be off," Sherlock said. Without waiting for a response, he swept through the door. 

~~

"Hang on," John called, struggling to keep up with the boy's strides. "Where are you going?"

"Class. Where do you think?" The reply was condescending, and John moved quickly in front of his path to cut him off.

"Yeah, ok, so I'm guessing you don't need me then?" He crossed his arms across his chest and stared disbelievingly at his new assignment -- Sherlock was his name? Odd, though fitting. Obviously rich. And eccentric. He was already proving to be more challenging than last year's stint when Anderson had given him grief for months. He pulled his sleeve up to check his watch for the time. Ten minutes till the bell. "What's your first class?"

"French," Sherlock said. "In that building." He confidently indicated a small stone building across the courtyard.

"Nice try, but that's the history building." John grinned cheekily when Sherlock's smug look fell.

"Fine," Sherlock ground out. "Lead on."

John began walking again, falling into step with his unwilling companion. "I'm John, by the way. John Watson."

"Yes, I know. Bit unfortunate."

"Wha-- unfortunate? Why?"

"Boring. Predictable."

"Hardly means it's unfortunate."

"It does when it fits."

"Oi, hold on, you don't know anything about me!" That was just too much. John knew he was hardly the most interesting person, but he'd be damned if he let himself be insulted by an uppity year 11. He had spent too many years kissing up to everyone at Baker College simply because they were richer than him, or smarter than him, or older than him. Now he was in his final year and he wasn't going to let anyone walk all over him.

He watched as Sherlock glanced sideways at him. He took a deep breath and began speaking. "I know you're at Baker on scholarship, probably for rugby or something equally barbaric. You're obviously a boarder, and you don't usually go home for the weekends, so your family lives at least three hours away. I know you're a good student, but you have to work hard at it -- it doesn't come naturally to you, and you overcompensate by being the resident 'nice guy'. I know you've had family issues in the past -- perhaps an overbearing father, or a bullying older brother. I know you want to go to medical school once you've finished your A-levels, but you don't think you'll be able to afford it, so you're planning on joining the miltary after graduation. Your shoulder injury, likely from a car crash, might hinder those plans, but you have no other back up, at least for now. I know you don't like me, and you're already counting down the minutes until you can get away from me, but not so you can rejoin your friends because there aren't many that you're close to. I'd say that's enough to be going on for now, yes?"

John's face had gone slack with disbelief during the tirade. Sherlock's lips curled into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He pushed past John. "If you would be so kind as to point me in the right direction for French, I'll leave you alone."

"How can you possibly know all that?" John asked after regaining brain function, once again falling into step with the younger boy. He knew he should be mad -- any normal person would be upset by the too-personal information that had been carelessly spouted off. No one at Baker knew about his plans to join the Army, so how did Sherlock?

"I deduced it, of course," Sherlock replied.

"You deduced it." The disbelief remained obvious in John's voice. It was ludicrous -- no one could tell that much about a stranger at first glance. A brief thought of _stalker_ ran through John's head, but he pushed it aside. No use in being paranoid.

"Yes, please don't make me repeat myself."

"Right -- er, sorry." An uncomfortable silence fell between them. "Sorry, but how?"

"I observed, and from my observations, I make deductions."

"So you can tell all of that by just looking at me?"

"Most people look, but the don't _see_."

"That's... well, that's actually brilliant."

Sherlock stopped short, and it took John a few seconds to realize he was walking alone. Turning, he saw Sherlock standing in the pathway with an odd flushed look on his face. "Really?"

And then John realized what was actually going on -- it was a defense mechanism, plain and simple. Harry used crass language and physical intimidation when she felt threatened; the case seemed similar for Sherlock. 

"Yeah," John said. "That was incredible."

Sherlock's eyebrows rose into his hair line, and he pressed his lips together as if he was trying to suppress a smile. John grinned.

~~

John was waiting for him outside after the first bell. Leaning against the stone wall, he looked as bored as Sherlock felt.

"You don't have to coddle me, you know," Sherlock said as he made his way through the crowd of students.

John's posture changed in an instant, straightening as Sherlock approached. "I'm not coddling. Just didn't want you to get lost trying to find your next class."

"Lucky for you I've got a free period next," Sherlock responded. He leaned against the wall next to John, slipping his hand in his pocket and pulling out a packet of cigarettes.

"Oh, now --"

"Don't even start," Sherlock said, lips already wrapped around a cigarette. "There's nothing you can tell me that I don't already know, and if you want me to make it through the day, you'll shut up about it." He glanced at John, whose eyebrows had met in the middle of his forehead in a frown.

"Fine," John replied. He readjusted his bag across his good shoulder. He made no move to leave, depsite the fact that he obviously had a class when Sherlock did not. He didn't say anything, just shifted his weight between his feet.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You can ask, if you like."

"You still didn't tell me how you knew all that stuff about me," John finally said. "I mean, you said you deduced it, but how?"

"It's simple enough, if you know what to look for," Sherlock replied, taking another drag from the cigarette. He was careful to blow the smoke away from John. "Your clothing tells me your family isn't very well off -- you take care of it, but your jumper shows about three years worth of wear. That tells me scholarship. No one at this school wears last year's clothing if they can afford tuition. Textbooks say medicine... who else would take organic chem and anatomy in the same year if they could help it? The way you hold yourself and your haircut tell me that you've already resigned yourself to several years of military service."

"You said I'm not close with too many people."

"Yes, that much is clear. Most people, when in the company of someone they don't like, are constantly looking for a way out. You kept your attention on me the whole time -- not once did you look for a friend."

"And my overbearing father?"

"You flinched in the administration office when I moved too quickly. I'm still putting my money on the bullying older brother." Sherlock indicated his wrist. "Your watch is a hand-me-down, but not something an older man would wear. So brother it is."

"Fantastic."

Sherlock's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"You have to realize that," John said emphatically. "I've never seen anything like it."

"That's not what people normally say."

"And what's that?"

Instead of replying, Sherlock pointed over John's shoulder with his cigarette before dropping it to the pavement and stubbing it out with his toe. John's gaze followed the movement before his attention shifted to a small group of students standing a short distance away. He recognized several of them -- Anderson was among them, and he was staring at Sherlock with the most hateful glare John had ever seen. Molly Hooper, a year 12 that John had always gotten along with, had her eyebrows raised in worry. Greg Lestrade, the captain of the rugby team, was pinching the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache.

"That good, huh?"

"Most of them resemble the gangly one's," Sherlock said, pushing himself off the wall. They fell into a casual pace beside one another.

"What did you deduce about him?" 

"He's sleeping with Ms. Donovan."

John's jaw dropped. "Come off it."

Sherlock simply grinned. John laughed.

~~

"Did I get anything wrong?"

John jumped as Sherlock cornered him outside the chemistry lab. He hadn't really expected Sherlock to seek him out, but he found that he was glad for the company. He started heading towards the lunch hall, making sure Sherlock was following before answering.

"That's been bugging you for hours, hasn't it."

"Well, did I?"

"My father has been tough on me since my mum died when I was a kid," he started. "I've been at Baker on a rugby scholarship for three years. I've already signed up to join the RAMC when I'm done here, and my watch is a hand-me-down."

"From your brother," Sherlock clarified.

"From my sister." John grinned at the responding scowl. "To be fair, she has masculine taste."

"I was still wrong," Sherlock grumbled.

"And I'm still impressed."

Sherlock hid his smile by looking the other way. John smirked and knocked Sherlock's shoulder with his own.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a very very very small chance that I'll continue this in the future, but it's there. I love teen!lock -- I just have to work out a plot that hasn't been done 800 times before. (I also promise to have it britpicked and beta'd if I continue.)


End file.
